Anatomy
by Kaslyna
Summary: The human body is a temple. It is sacred, and those who take the time to worship it soon learn so many secrets never before revealed. B/A, post-Loyalty. My contribution. Written one rainy April day. :D Rated T with mild suggestions/smut. Not too heavy.


**A/N: I wrote this a little while ago. Now to post it! Spoilers for Loyalty 1 and 2.**

**Disclaimer: Law & Order: Criminal Intent belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC. I own nothing.**

She slammed the phone down into its cradle, willing the tears away. She honestly does not believe she had done that, and Alex knows that she could just call Moran and tell him it was temporary insanity and meant nothing. However, at the same time, that option is not plausible. It's too late. It has been too late for so long now, since she first realized she loved Bobby, since she fired him not five minutes ago. She saunters into the bullpen and casually cleans up her things. She feels the eyes of Zach and Serena on her, but she does not care to answer their silent question.

"Hey, Zach? Would you mind sending this shit to my apartment tomorrow?" she asks, casually, as she sets a box of her things down.

"Uh, sure. Why?" he answers, puzzled.

"I'm quitting," she states simply, shrugging.

He watches as she walks calmly out. Then he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Serena eyes him warily, curiously. He looks up and sends her a small, weary smile.

"Is it fun here yet?"

She snorts, rolls her eyes, and retorts, "A fucking _party._"

He laughs, and she smiles shyly at him. Somehow he figured they would be okay without the Dynamic Duo.

Alex curses under her breath, realizing that she does not have her car. She heaves a sigh and looks out of the lobby. It's raining, a light, misty rain that is typical for November in New York. She steps outside, her breath vaporizing. It is almost magical. She then begins the slow, long walk to Bobby's townhouse, needing time to think and put together some sort of half-assed explanation.

It takes a while, and the rain increases. When Alex knocks timidly on Bobby's door, she is shivering from having walked twenty-two blocks in the torrential rain. He answers, looking a tad surprised at her appearance.

"Eames?" he asks, cautious.

"Hey," she nods, and he moves aside awkwardly, letting her in.

"Fuck, Eames," he sighs, exasperated, "Fuck! What did you do to get here?"

"Didn't," she pauses to sneeze, "Didn't have my car. I walked."

"You could have at least taken a cab, Eames," he sighs, rolling his eyes.

"I needed time to think about what to say," she admits.

"Here," he smiles sympathetically, "Look, I'll go get you a t-shirt or something you can change into."

"Ah, Bobby. You really don't have to."

"I insist," he grins, "Be right back."

He returns, tossing clothes at her. She pads into the bathroom, peeling off her wet clothing. She sighs and pulls the NYPD t-shirt over her head. It is long enough on her short body to suffice as a dress. She exits and Bobby goes in, taking her jeans and shirt. She follows him to the basement, where he shoves her things into the washing machine and starts it. She sits timidly on the dryer, waiting for him to address her.

"So," he sighs, "Why are you here, Eames?"

"No," she shakes her head, "Coffee first."

"Yes, ma'am!" he grins, saluting her. She laughs and follows him upstairs. He starts coffee and hands her a full cup, then sits beside her on the couch.

"I quit," she tells him, staring into the coffee as if it could provide her divine guidance.

"Why?" he asks; she feels his eyes on her.

"I couldn't do it, Bobby," she shakes her head mournfully, tears cascading down her cheeks, "I couldn't take a promotion at your expense."

"Eames-"

"No," she says firmly, "No, Bobby. This is not your fucking fault. I made my choice. Maybe you don't agree with it. But do not give me your holier-than-thou guilt. I'm a fucking adult, Bobby. I can make my own decisions. I chose you over the job. Simple as that, because you mean more to me than a prestigious position could ever mean to me."

"Alex," he tries her name; it is foreign on his tongue. She finally looks up, tears welled high in her amber eyes.

"I, uh. I love you Bobby," she stammers, "I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. No fucking job, no matter how well-earned or important, could ever make me stop loving you, or make my firing you right. Well, Moran is going to have to deal with one out of the two. Simple as that."

"Alex," he sighs, "D-do you m-mean that?"

"I do, Bobby," she declares, sincere and bold, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispers. Then he eagerly found her lips. This first kiss was the real thing. Name a cliché and it happened in that instant. Fireworks exploded, planets aligned, stars collided, and the world melted away. In that slim, small moment two lonely creatures united as one, finally, after searching and searching. Somehow they knew they would always end up here.

When they come up for air, breathing reedy, their foreheads pressed, they forget Moran and Ross and Somalia and the FBI and pirates and terrorists and Puntland and their unemployment and all that mattered was that they would never, ever leave the other.

As Bobby held Alex in his arms and made slow, sweet love to her that night, she finally felt whole, complete, and beautiful. Gorgeous, beautiful, and perfect in his eyes as he made everything come together like one of his damned puzzles. She wants to tell him this, but as her amber eyes fixate on his chocolate brown eyes, all words are lost. She is just a puddle of Jell-o at this point. It doesn't matter, though. When he is done, he hovers over her, lingering a little longer. Then she rolls on top of his chest and smiles warmly at him. He kisses her temple and pulls the sheets over them. She yawns and falls asleep on his wonderful body.

Bobby watches as Alex sleeps. He sighs and she stirs slightly. She is beautiful, perfect, heavenly. How many clichés is she? Alex was the only person he had ever truly loved. The only person that mattered. Ten years, ten years. Ten years could change so much. It could strip away your false security, steal your innocence, and it could also find you madly, wildly in love with the last person on Earth you ever thought you would bring to bed. Sure, you'd had fantasies about her. It was kind of difficult not. She was so far out of Bobby's league. Snotty, prissy, and stuck-up, he thought at first. Gradually she grew less aloof and he realized that it was a façade. A flimsy act to cover her broken heart. She told him about her husband, who had died a little over a year before they became partners. He saw how hard it had been for Alex. She was strong and independent, though.

Eventually, his brain shuts the hell up and he falls into a fitful slumber, Alex still stretched across his chest.

When Alex wakes up, she is still sprawled across Bobby's chest. The night floods back and she is nervous. She believes him to be asleep, until she feels his fingers absently tracing on her lower back. Alex shivers involuntarily, then sighs, a wistful sound.

"Morning, sleepy," he grins.

"Ungh," she replies, burrowing her head into his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He chuckles.

"Why Alex," he mocks, "I always did believe you to be a morning person!"

"Shove it where the sun don't shine, Bobby," she growls.

"That hurt," he winces theatrically, causing Alex to roll her eyes and elicit a small laugh.

"Alex," he says, tone serious, "Are y-you sure a-about this? I mean…"

"Bobby," she frowns, fully awake now, "I'm winging it right now, but I'm sure about one thing and that's that I love you. I knew it since you sat beside me while I recovered from my kidnapping. I knew you loved me from when you first called me Alex. I also know firing you was the most atrocious thing I've ever done and that quitting does not make up for it, but it sure as hell makes me feel a lot better. So yes, Bobby, I'm as fucking sure as I'll ever be. That's enough for right now. When will it ever be the perfect time?"

He eyes her curiously, then nods, agreeing, "You're right. I'm sorry, Alex. You're r-right."

"Make me breakfast," she demands, and he laughs.

"That's my girl," he grins again, "Your clothes should be dry by now."

She frowns, and he realizes he has said the wrong thing. He amends quickly, "You can stay longer if you'd like, of course."

She rolls off him and lets him get up. She lays in the bed and listens as he hums under his breath. Pretty soon the smell of pancakes overwhelms her and she plods off into the kitchen.

They eat in an amiable silence, and then Alex dresses. He lets Alex drive his car to her place. She kisses him shyly goodbye and he watches as she bounds into the house.

Lord help him, that woman had his heart and she could surely crush it if she wished to.


End file.
